Someone's in the Kitchen
by Watermelonsaregood
Summary: Judy Fabray isn't exactly sure why her daughter is baking in the kitchen. Or what vegan cookies have to do with it.


**Title**: Someone's in the Kitchen  
**Pairing**: Rachel/Quinn  
**Author**: boredblueberry  
**Rating**: PG  
**Length**: 1,000+ (1,308)  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Judy Fabray isn't exactly sure why her daughter is baking in the kitchen. Or what vegan cookies have to do with it.  
**A/N**: Okay, this is actually an older fic of mine, but I just wanted to put it up here and away from LJ for a friend. :)

* * *

It happens because of a bake sale.

William McKinley High School is throwing one for the sake of school funds, though Judy thinks it's some form of child labor. The teachers _never _bring anything, only students do. The school doesn't even pay for supplies.

She sees Quinn the night before grumpily dumping flour into a large metal bowl. Her daughter is messy and muttering under her breath, an egg shell or two sneaking its way into her cake batter.

It's unusual and very rare to see Quinn in the kitchen, let alone baking. She hates making a mess, though that's only because she doesn't practice cooking enough.

Quinn is useless in the kitchen. She doesn't know her way around. She doesn't even use a measuring cup, pouring out the flour straight from the bag.

The cloud of flour nearly makes Judy cough and reveal her presence. She breathes into her yellow cardigan's sleeve, remaining hidden.

Quinn can't find the egg beater. She reaches for a ridiculously large plastic spoon that Judy never bothers to use on account of its size. Quinn brushes her pesky bangs away as she stirs lazily.

The result of her lack of effort is a lumpy chocolate concoction. It looks ghastly, but being the girl's mother means that if the chance ever came she would have to try it. Thank God it's for a bake sale and not as a Mother's Day gift.

Though come to think of it, Judy faintly recalls seeing Quinn in the kitchen more often as a child. Her daughter knew her way around the old kitchen, always helping out with the egg cracking.

Judy doesn't ask if she needs any assistance. These days it is normal not to.

She backs out of the room and goes upstairs.

* * *

The next time Judy sees her Quinnie in the kitchen is the day after the bake sale.

"Mom," Quinn says suddenly, preventing Judy from taking cover, "Where is the cinnamon?"

Judy blinks, noting the contrast in her demeanor from yesterday. Quinn is _smiling_. "...On the spice rack, next to the rosemary."

Now that it is impossible to hide, Judy instead chooses to grab a chair and observe. "Is there another bake sale?" she wonders nonchalantly, watching as Quinn carefully measures out a teaspoon.

"That was yesterday," Quinn replies simply.

Judy is glad to see her daughter taking part in an activity other than prancing around in that tiny cheer-leading skirt and showing off her nicely inherited legs for all the world to see. She hasn't appeared this happy since joining that glee club at school or the moments before prom night- The _after _was a different story.

Quinn then uses the electric hand mixer and leaves it on the slowest setting possible, painstakingly combining all the ingredients. She hums softly, as though Judy can't hear over the mixer. It's familiar. Is it a Dionne Warwick song?

"So, there's no bake sale..." Judy trails off, hoping Quinn will explain her reasoning for raiding the kitchen.

"Nope."

There's a shopping bag next to her, and margarine... But not the regular brand. This one is called _Earth Balance_. Huh.

"Did you add the eggs?" Judy asks, unable to spot the carton.

"No," Quinn replies, "These are vegan cookies." She's cautious in tossing a layer of flour on the counter.

Judy swears her eye twitches in confusion. First baking for no apparent reason and now _vegan _cookies? What has come over her child?

"That's... like vegetarian, right?"

The rolling pin is already in one hand. Quinn shakes her head, much too focused on meticulously rolling out the cookie dough to look up. "Similar, but vegans don't eat _any _meat products- Like eggs or milk."

"Oh..."

Baking vegan cookies. Is her daughter vegan now or what? Judy knows that it has nothing to do with religious reasons- Jesus ate fish all the time. Unless her daughter...

"Is there someone you like at school?"

Quinn glances at her for a moment and returns to her work, uttering a small "No". Her blush says otherwise.

"Are they vegan?" Her daughter is as red as the strawberry-shaped timer.

"...N-no."

"So there _is _someone," Judy says, smiling.

"No," Quinn denies again. She retrieves a star-shaped cookie cutter from the shopping bag, along with pink icing and matching sprinkles.

"Okay." Judy leans forward, watching Quinn's reaction. "Let's say _hypothetically _there _is _someone..."

Quinn's tense shoulders relax at the word, comfortable in not admitting anything.

"Did they like your cookies from yesterday?" Judy feels pushy now, prying into things that aren't any of her business. But she's Quinn's mom so it makes no difference, existent crush or not.

"It was a _cake_," Quinn corrects, sounding like her five-year old self. "And yes, they did."

"_Hypothetically_," Judy throws in.

Quinn confirms, "Hypothetically."

"Well, they must really like you. Considering that it wasn't a vegan cake." Judy continues, smirking at her daughter's raised eyebrow, "I bet they'll like you even more now that you're making vegan cookies."

If it is possible, Quinn blushes even deeper. "Hypothetically, you mean."

Judy ignores the word, a billion percent sure that her daughter is going for the old "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" idea.

So far, it's only been _they_, not _he_. No word on gender.

Quinn sets the timer, then moves on to lovingly decorate her lovely creation.

This time her hard earned effort results in something cute and tasty-looking. Judy wishes it is Mother's Day.

"A vegan with a sweet tooth. Are they cute?"

Quinn doesn't reply, probably now just realizing how weird _they _sounds as opposed to _he_. Or she...

Judy stares at her daughter. She wonders where the time went. One day they're baking together, the next she's baking all by herself. A responsible young woman. Judy misses their baking sessions. All the homemade icing and wiping the sticky mess from her baby's nose.

Sometimes she thinks of her daughter's daughter and how different things would have been if Quinn kept her. But that's a topic for another day.

"Is _she _cute?" Judy questions. Gently.

Quinn nearly drops the the tray of adorable stars. "Y-you mean _he_?"

Judy shakes her head, getting up to take a closer look in hazel eyes. "Quinn Fabray..."

The use of her name is enough to end hypothetical ideas and white lies.

Quinn's shoulders sag as she frowns sadly, setting the cookies down. Though she can't see, Judy knows her daughter's feet are turned inwards out of guilt. Her face reddens again, eyes downcast.

Judy's hand finds its way to Quinn's trembling chin. "I'm not upset. It's okay, Quinnie."

The younger blond answers, very shyly, "...S-she _is _cute."

"Okay." Judy replies in that motherly way, to encourage her to continue.

"I like her voice. She likes musicals and gold stars are her thing."

"A brunette?"

Quinn nods.

"You've always had a thing for brunettes," Judy points out softly.

Quinn smiles, another rare thing for Judy to see. She laughs, and goes around the counter to hug her mother.

* * *

The week after the baking incident, the doorbell goes off.

Judy really shouldn't be surprised.

She is cute. With long shiny chestnut hair and bright eyes. Like Red Riding Hood, she holds a basket of sweet smelling goodies.

"Hello!" she greets cheerily, shaking Judy's hand. "My name is Rachel Berry and I've come to exchange delectable desserts with you and your daughter, Quinn, as she has been most kind in offering vegan cookies to me and the school's glee club." She holds the basket up, an array of various flavors on display. "These are also vegan."

Quinn didn't tell her that her crush is a bit of a chatterbox. Judy can't help but think coffee has something to do with her sunny disposition.

"Oh. Well, come in." Judy moves back to let her skip inside, basket bouncing.


End file.
